Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents)

by Tammy Jo Burns

  “Rebekah, every time we love, I feel as if I have come home,” he whispered against her ear.

  “Me, too,” she breathed out on just the faintest of whispers.

  He was slowly earning her trust, and that made him feel powerful and yet very protective of her all at the same time. What had started out as a quick, furtive loving turned into one that was slow and languorous. He tried to show her through his actions how he felt about her. Each movement, every touch, was done with only her pleasure in mind, to leave her breathless, wanting, but ultimately fulfilled beyond all reason.

  ***

  Rebekah sat in the parlor at Gertrude’s house. Around her sat all the women that had coaxed her and given her advice, looking expectantly for information in regard to the success of their plot. She calmly drank her tea and looked each one in the eye, refusing to give anything away.

  “It worked,” Mikala announced to the group.

  Rebekah almost sputtered her tea on those sitting nearest to her.

  “How do you know?” she demanded, dabbing at her lips and the spots on her dress.

  “You have the look of a woman who has been well-loved. You seem less angry, more relaxed,” Mikala observed.

  “Is she right?” Clarissa asked.

  “I should not share our bedroom secrets.”

  “And now you do not have to, for you have said enough,” Tessa said.

  “Tell me one thing,” Clarissa said. “The past?”

  “Is in the past. All of it,” Rebekah said as she reached out and took the hand of both Clarissa and Gertie in hers, reassuringly squeezing them.

  “I believe it is,” Gertie said, hugging her tightly.

  The women settled into a comfortable visit while the children played upstairs, watched carefully by their respective nannies. Mikala’s daughter was brought down to be fed. Afterwards, the little girl was passed from arm to arm to be cooed over and admired. Just as the women were about to begin getting ready to return home, a bright lightning strike lit the room followed by a loud boom of thunder.

  Rebekah did not believe in premonitions, but something had the fine hairs on her arms and nape standing on end. It was not the twins, for they were still upstairs playing with Tessa’s two children. Had something happened to Thorn? No, he could take care of himself. She rubbed her hand along her arm and told herself she was being foolish. Rebekah looked out the window and saw that it had begun to rain heavily.

  “I should go up and help nanny get the children ready.”

  “I will go with you,” Tessa said in her Scottish brogue. When the women arrived in the nursery, they had a fight on their hands. Neither set of twins was ready to leave the other. After several promises that they would get to play together once more, they reluctantly allowed themselves to be made ready to go home.

  As she led the children down the stairs, someone beat on the front door. An odd sense of déjà vu swept over her, causing momentary dizziness. When the door swung open, she fully expected to see the Reverend on the other side. She stood her ground and made sure the twins were hidden behind her. But who she saw was even more shocking, if possible, for standing there in the pouring rain, a bag at her feet, and soaking wet stood her mother.

  “Edith?” Gertie asked.

  “Mama?” Rebekah echoed.

  “He’s dead,” the thin, bedraggled woman said. “Hezekiah has gone to meet his fate, may God have mercy on his soul,” she announced before collapsing in a heap inside the entryway.

  Rebekah raced down the stairs to her mother. Wind blew the rain inside the house, and she quickly shut the door. “Mama,” she patted her cheek lightly, trying to rouse her. This woman looked more than a decade older than her mother should. And so much thinner, almost brittle. Her eyelids fluttered, as if she were trying to make them open. Rebekah heard commotion and talking behind her, but ignored it as she focused all of her attention on her mother. She helped her mother to sit once she regained consciousness. “Mama, why are you here? Where is the Reverend?”

  “He’s dead,” Edith said again. She looked into hazel eyes so like her own, and cupped her daughter’s cheek. “He can no longer hurt you, baby girl,” she said, tears stinging her eyes.

  “How?”

  “That man of yours.”

  “Thorn killed him? But he said…”

  “Not with his own hands,” her mother interrupted. “No, he used something much better. He threw Hezekiah’s misdeeds up in his face.”

  “I don’t see how that alone would do anything.”

  “Oh, it wouldn’t have, but the church elders happened to be on the other side of a door that was not quite closed and heard everything. Hezekiah admitted to several things that even I did not know about. After your husband left, the elders dismissed him at once. He suffered a major apoplexy that night. He lingered for several days before he died.”

  “And yet you stayed by his side.”

  “I was his wife. A long time ago, I loved him. He was a different man then. After that harlot stole his heart, he resented me and you girls. That is when he became bitter and hateful, because he could not be with the one he loved and their child.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I think perhaps we should leave,” Tessa said, nudging Mikala.

  “Yes, of course,” Mikala agreed.

  A footman gathered up Edith on Gertie’s command and carried her up the stairs. Gertie went upstairs to assist Edith. Tessa and Mikala each hugged Rebekah, reassuring her that they would be there for her if she needed anything at all. Soon Clarissa and Rebekah were the only ones standing in the entrance hall.

  “You know I am not going anywhere,” Clarissa announced. “Justin had business to attend at one of the estates, and the baby is too young to travel, so we are staying the night with Gertie.” As if on cue, they heard a wail from the top of the stairs and Jace came to the landing looking very annoyed.

  “Mama, when will the baby stop doing that? I want to play with it and all it does is sleep and cry!”

  “That is all you did as well, love,” she laughed. “Zachary and Ivy are staying a little while longer. Why don’t you make the most of their being here?”

  “C’mon Zach!” Jace waved the other little boy to hurry up the stairs.

  “You be sure and play with Ivy as well,” Clarissa said.

  “I’d rather see the baby,” Ivy said. “She’s so pretty, she looks like my dolly.”

  “Well then, young lady, you come with me.”

  Soon Rebekah stood alone in the entryway looking up the stairs, wondering if she had the energy to climb them and face what lay at the top. She took a deep breath and slowly began to scale the stairs as if they were a tall mountain and at the top she did not know what fate awaited her. Once she made it to the top, she cautiously walked down the hall, listening for sounds that would indicate which room her mother occupied.

  “I’ll be back,” Gertie’s voice could be heard as she opened a door toward the end of the hall. “Rebekah, come keep your mother company.”

  When Rebekah’s feet felt stuck to the floor, Gertie impatiently crossed to her, took her hand and pulled her down the hall. She pushed her into the room and shut the door behind her. A fire roared in the fireplace, and her mother sat in a rocking chair bundled up in blankets, shivering. Her chestnut-colored hair lay in loose, wet waves about her shoulders. Rebekah felt as if she were suffocating and walked to the window. The storm still raged, but the wind blew in the opposite direction, so no rain filtered into the room.

  “Gertie sometimes overdoes the mothering a bit,” Edith said.

  “Yes.”

  “Wulfe did not tell you about your half-sister?”

  “He knew?”

  “Yes. Everything came out when he confronted your father about the accident.”

  “Do not ever call that man my father,” she bit out.

  “He was a good man at one time, a loving man.”

  “Is that what got you through all those years? Mem
ories of what had been?”

  “They are all I had besides you and Sarah.”

  “How did you find out about this other woman?”

  “When I was carrying you. He kept calling out in his sleep a woman’s name, Gabrielle. I thought it was beautiful, and in my naïvety I thought perhaps that is what he wanted your name to be. It was coming close for you to be born, and I asked him if he had been thinking of names and he shrugged. When I suggested Gabrielle for a girl and Gabriel for a boy, he became livid. That is when I first saw the man he had become. He attacked me and left. He caused you to be born a few weeks early. I was alone with a small child, unsure if I would survive your birth, but so very determined.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “His dear Gabrielle was expecting their child as well. He went to her. She had complications. That is why he had been calling her name during the night. She and the babe survived, but she could never have more children. Nothing was the same between us after that.”

  “I never knew.”

  “No, I protected you girls as much as possible. There were other pregnancies after that, but…”

  “But what, Mama?”

  “There were accidents, so many accidents. He only used my body when he couldn’t have his precious Gabrielle. Then if there was a child, he felt he was being punished, and he would beat me until it existed no more.”

  “How many times?”

  “I lost count.”

  “I hate him.”

  “I believe I do, as well,” her mother said, sounding sad. “I only wanted to be a good wife and mother, and he kept taking that away from me. I did my best to protect you girls. Sarah was easy, she was so obedient, but you were another story. You reminded me of myself. I wanted to spare you the pain I had suffered. I wanted you to have a chance to be a mother, to love your child and raise it without fear. But he had to make a trip to London to see his whore. Their daughter mentioned seeing someone who looked very much like her in town, only she was very much with child.”

  “That is when he came for me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Gabrielle still alive?”

  “I would guess so. He still came to see her often enough.”

  “What is their daughter’s name?”

  “Aimée,” her mother replied staring into the fire.

  Rebekah’s ears began to ring, and the room spun sickeningly. She saw spots in front of her eyes. It became difficult to breathe. She thought she heard voices behind her, but she could not be certain. She felt her grip on the window frame slacken, and then gravity was pulling her body to the floor. Her head made contact with the frame of the bed, and then blackness engulfed her.

  Clarissa and Gertie reached the room at the same moment after hearing the breaking of glass.

  “What happened?” Gertie demanded, taking in Rebekah’s inert form lying on the floor, shattered glass all around her.

  “I was telling her everything. She asked for her half-sister’s name and then she just collapsed.” Edith remained sitting in her chair, her blankets pulled tightly around her. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just thought she should know the truth.”

  “All will be fine,” Gertie placed a soothing hand on the other woman’s shoulder.

  “I will send someone up to move her to a bed and clean up the mess. I will send for Lord Wulfe, as well.”

  When a footman arrived to move her to another bedroom, he hoisted her in his arms, and paused at what he saw. “Lady Gertrude, the lady has a head wound.”

  Gertrude saw the bloody spot on the carpet, and then inspected Rebekah’s head when the footman moved clear of the shattered glass. “I don’t think it is very deep. I will go with you. Edith, see that you stay put until all the glass is picked up.”

  ***

  Thorn was going over the books when someone began beating on the door of the Lady Luck. He sat there, ignoring it. Whoever it was could come back in a few hours to lose their money. Silence. They must have gone away, whoever it was. He started to pull out Walsh’s calling card to study it once more, but quickly replaced it when someone began beating on the back door.

  Angry at being disrupted, he stood up and let the chair bang against the wall. He made his way to the door and waved away one of the men who worked at the gaming hell.

  “What in bloody hell do you want?” he demanded of the man that stood on the other side of the door. He was wearing a livery Thorn knew he had seen before, but could not quite place.

  “I am looking for Lord Wulfe.”

  “You’ve found him.” The man seemed to noticeably pale. “Well, man what do you want?”

  “I am to tell…I mean ask…I mean…”

  “Yes?”

  “You are needed at Lady Gertrude’s immediately.”

  “Rebekah?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “The twins?” Thorn gathered the man up by his lapels and held him a few inches off the ground.

  “I believe they are fine, my lord,” the man squeaked out. “I was only told to bring you as quickly as possible to Lady Gertrude’s house.”

  Thorn let the man drop and ran to the mews. He quickly saddled his horse to the dismay of several of the stable lads. Then he was mounted and racing through the streets of London. Damn, he could not remember the exact address where Gertrude lived. He slowed the horse and tried to recall when the man in livery passed him and called, “Follow me!” He said a quick prayer of thanks, because as they drew to a stop, he realized he would have ridden right past this house if not for the footman.

  The footman ran up the stairs and opened the door for Thorn. “Up here, my lord,” another man stood at the top of the stairs, directing him.

  He saw a blonde woman, walking a fretting baby in the hall and immediately recognized her as Rebekah’s cousin, Clarissa.

  “Lord Wulfe, I am so glad you came. She’s in there,” Clarissa nodded her head.

  He opened the door, and saw Rebekah lying very still on the bed. Beside her sat Ivy, holding her hand, rubbing it. When Ivy saw him, she clambered to her feet and ran to him, jumping from the bed to his ready arms.

  “Uncle Thorn, she won’t talk to me,” Ivy sniffed, her eyes growing teary. “And there’s blood.”

  “Blood?”

  “She hit her head when she collapsed,” Clarissa explained still attempting to soothe her fretting babe.

  “Collapsed?”

  “Her mother is here. Her father is dead. I am not sure what her mother was telling her, but it upset her enough that she fainted. We have not been able to bring her round, not even with smelling salts.”

  “Ivy, love, will you go with Clarissa? Let me look after your Aunt Bekah.”

  “She’s not going to die like Mama, is she?”

  “No, love, I promise you she is going to be fine.” He kissed the tip of her nose then put her on her feet and watched her leave with Clarissa. He shut the door and noticed how stuffy the room was. The rain had stopped, and a nice cool breeze was blowing. Thorn opened the window wishing they were at their house, dreading what her mother might have told her. Knowing he should have told her as soon as he had found out. He turned her gently and examined the wound on the back of her head. She had a gash and it would ache for a while, but a lump was forming and that was a good sign.

  “Thorn?” she murmured.

  “Yes, sweetheart, I’m here.”

  “I don’t feel very well.”

  “I imagine not. You have quite a bump and gash on your head. Clarissa said you fainted.”

  “I never faint,” she said and then it all came back to her. Her mother was here. The Reverend was dead. He had a secret family that he loved. She had a half-sister named Aimée. A half-sister that had been her husband’s mistress. He had known about her and had not said anything. “You knew,” Rebekah accused.

  “The Reverend mentioned something when I confronted him.”

  “Mentioned,” she pushed herself up and moaned as dizziness swamped her. She
felt the bile rise up her throat and tried to hold it back, but failed. Just in time she felt a chamber pot placed into her hands as she lost the contents of her stomach. She tuned out the world around her and just concentrated on trying to keep her stomach in her body.

  “Here,” Thorn sat beside her and placed a cool, damp cloth on her neck and held one against her forehead.

  “Quit being nice to me,” she cried.

  “I can’t, you’re my wife. I am to care for you in sickness and in health.”

  “You tupped my sister!”

  “Such language to come out of such a sweet mouth.”

  “Stop,” she wailed, making herself even more sick. Finally, she leaned against Thorn’s broad chest. “Take it away,” she whispered. Somehow he set it aside without ever letting her go. He rubbed the cool cloth against her flushed face, across her chest, and down her arms to the tips of her fingers.

  “I should have told you when I found out. I am more sorry than you can know.”

  “He hated us. Despised us. He loved her.”

  “He can no longer hurt you.”

  “We were only children. What did we do that was so wrong? Our baby is not the first he killed.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Mama said she had more accidents than she could remember.”

  “I am so sorry. I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

  “He’s gone now. Thorn, I don’t ever want you near that woman again, do you hear me?” Silence permeated the room. “Thorn, did you hear me?”

  “I heard you,” he said, but something sounded odd about his voice.

  “You are planning on seeing her again, aren’t you?”

  “She is Glandingham’s mistress now.”

  “And he is your partner?”

  “Yes.”

  “So she is at the Lady Luck quite often, isn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  “Well…”

  “What?” She pulled away from him ignoring her throbbing head and double vision.

  “She is an agent for the Crown,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.